


Encouraged in the Library

by abp



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Library Sex, M/M, well library blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abp/pseuds/abp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with a changed sign.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Encouraged in the Library

**Author's Note:**

> I saw that post on tumblr going around with [this image](http://25.media.tumblr.com/fa31f2e2e5d9a8729b8a3d4a24550fe8/tumblr_mezuowX4Lb1qgkc0ko1_500.jpg) and then this happened. 
> 
> A thousand thanks to Ardatli, whose beta-ing skills made this vastly better.

It began with a simple sign. The request, stuck to the sides and top of each table in equal measure, read:

EATING, DRINKING,  
AND SMOKING ARE NOT  
ALLOWED IN THE LIBRARY

It was common sense--nothing radical or outlandish--though the fact that the library had to stick the damn things all over the place suggested otherwise. Enjolras, for the most part, had no trouble with upholding the rule. Students were willing to adhere to it or at least be subtle in their transgressions. In return, he turned a blind eye when he _did_ notice a furtive sip of a water bottle or a quick bite of a granola bar. And if he occasionally gave out mini bags of m &ms or juice boxes to freshmen who looked like they were about to collapse around finals week, no one had to know.

He liked his job, though—it was _easy_ for one—and that meant he had to draw a line if he was to keep it. When a girl had a pizza delivered to the silent study floor, he kicked her out. When a boy attempted to smoke in the bathroom on the first floor, he had no choice but to temporarily suspend him from the library. When _Courfeyrac_ had tried to bring a keg in, he (with a great sigh and a note to rethink his choice in friends) had turned him away and threaten to call campus police if he tried again.

Enjolras thought he was fair; he allowed the rules to be broken to an acceptable extent. His friends, however, didn’t seem to see it that way. Courfeyrac especially circulated grand stories about Enjolras’ devotion to the library—how committed he was to upholding its integrity. Despite Enjolras’ eyerolls and glares in Courfeyrac’s direction, the joking caught on.

That’s how he knew, nearly three months after the keg incident, that it was one of his so-called _friends_ that was behind the altered signs.

He hadn’t noticed at first. The signs on the tables were often scratched, doodled on, ripped half off, or otherwise ruined; he didn’t care to pay attention. He certainly wasn’t paid enough to make ‘putting out new signs’ his problem. It was only when he overheard a group of obnoxiously loud boys moving from table to table that he picked up on the change.

_“Yeah, it’s every one on this floor!”_

_“Guess that means it’s the new rule.”_

Enjolras frowned in their direction and shushed them. Only when they left did he get up from his desk and venture over to look. The sign had been peeled in places and written over to produce a new effect:

 

                                DRINKING **_WINE_**  
 _ **AND FUC**_ KING ARE N ** _OW  
_** _ **ENCOURAGE**_ D IN THE LIBRARY

A quick look around showed him that, yes, it was on every table on the first floor. The second and third floors were clear of the edit and that was his only relief. The scale of the vandalism already meant it was now Enjolras’ problem— _and he wasn’t paid enough for this shit._ This was war.

 ***

“ _Courfeyrac!_ ” Enjolras barged into the man’s apartment, frustration rolling off him in waves. He had been forced to spend the rest of his shift making calls to figure out where he could print the new signs (because no, they _couldn’t_ be printed on normal paper, only the specific kind that he had to talk to six people to locate and three more to actually get a hold of). Every minute of that nightmare had been spent waiting to extract some revenge.

Grantaire looked up from the couch curiously. “He’s out.”

Enjolras paused, thinking. “Good.” That was even better. “Help me vandalize his room.”

“ _What_?”

Not hesitating, Enjolras headed to Courfeyrac’s bedroom. “He messed with the library.” 

Grantaire was off the couch and following him in a hurry. “So you’re going to trash his room?”

“I was on the phone for _two hours_ trying to get new signs. Two. Hours.”

“Okay,” Grantaire conceded, mouth curving in a grin. “So what are we doing exactly?”

Enjolras hesitated as he pushed the door open, glancing around the mess of a bedroom. Clothes littered the floor, dresser drawers hung open, books teetered in dangerously stacked piles. “How long will he be gone?”

Quite a while, as it turned out. With Grantaire’s help, he managed to wrap everything in the bedroom in newspaper, unscrew Courfeyrac’s rolling desk chair, and fill the toes of his shoes with shaving cream (the latter pranks being Grantaire’s ideas). Enjolras left after they finished, securing a promise from Grantaire that he would text him about Courfeyrac’s reaction.

It wasn’t what he had hoped for.

Courfeyrac called him only a few hours later.

“ _Asshole._ ”

“You deserved it,” Enjolras insisted, a hint of a smile on his face. “Did I mention spending _two hours_ trying to sort out the signs in the library?”

“ _That wasn’t me!”_ Courfeyrac insisted.

Enjolras hesitated. “What?”

_“Look, there’s no reason for me to deny it now, if I did it. But I didn’t do it.”_

“Shit. Seriously?”

“ _Yeah, and now you owe me big time_.”

Enjolras groaned. It made no sense; if it hadn’t been Courfeyrac, then _who_?

It took another two weeks to figure that out and by that time, Enjolras had all but forgotten the incident. It was only on some gray Monday, when he was picking up a forgotten book, that he noticed someone had _done it again._ Fury rose up within him, his fists clenching and unclenching in controlled anger. But he had caught the vandal in the process; only half of the tables had been redone.

He decided to stay quiet for the time being and took to observing the library patrons instead. Only a day into his vigilant watch he cracked the case; there was the miscreant blatantly scratching off a sign. And it was _Grantaire_. Annoyance flooded hotly through his veins and he could feel his cheeks heating up as he approached the table. Enjolras smacked the back of his head without mercy.

“What the—“ Grantaire looked up at him with wide eyes, guilt flicking over his features before he schooled his face into a frown. “Ass.”

“It was _you_ the whole time? And you let Courf take the fall?” Enjolras asked incredulously.

Grantaire grinned wickedly. “ _That_ was fun.”

Enjolras smacked him again, eliciting a wince from the dark-haired idiot. “Why?”

“Why not?” Grantaire shrugged, but he wavered under the intensity of Enjolras’ stare. “You take things too seriously. I was just messing around.”

“I don’t—“

“Yeah, you do,” Grantaire pressed, a crooked smile weaving on his lips. “You couldn’t break the rules if you tried.”

Enjolras stood in defiance, tall and straight. His arms crossed tight across his chest and he clenched his teeth. “I can too.”

“Oh yeah?” Grantaire goaded, and Enjolras realized too late that he was being led into a trap. “Then drink with me.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

Grantaire lifted his backpack from the ground and pulled it open enough to show Enjolras the bottle of wine inside. “Come on, a drink in the library. It’s fun.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

With a last withering glare, Enjolras stormed off back to his post at the main desk. He should suspend Grantaire from the library—or at least throw him out.  But he had always had a problem with _what he should do_ and _Grantaire_. Another part of him, the stubborn part, wanted to go back and drink with him; prove him wrong. That, of course, would only be giving him what he wanted. It was a whole mess of confusion that Enjolras was glad to ignore.

It still meant war.

***

His anger was calmer this time, not coming off of a two hour phone call, so his revenge was far more meticulous and planned out. Or at least it was, until he stumbled upon Grantaire and Eponine one afternoon when he was returning books to their shelves, and the whole plan was discarded.

He almost greeted them—then he heard his name come up and chose to duck around the shelf instead, out of view but in hearing distance. It was instinct, though he couldn’t say why; he wasn’t normally one for sneaking around. But Grantaire seemed to always drive him to do the wrong thing.

“So are you done pulling Enjolras’ pigtails yet?”

“Shut up,” Grantaire groaned.

Enjolras could picture the exact unwavering stare Eponine was undoubtedly giving him.

“Seriously, you’ve been acting like a twelve year old. Grow some balls and tell him how you feel already.”

“Like you can talk,” he muttered. “ _Ow_!”

From the satisfying thump, Enjolras could only imagine she had punched him. In the arm, if he knew anything about Eponine.

“Tell him.”

“What? Should I just traipse up to him and say _I know you hate me and everything but I’ve been in love with you for months. How about we fuck now?”_

There was the telltale sound of Eponine punching him again.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Oh, but I should keep the rest?”

Eponine let out a hint of a laugh. “Maybe just ask him on a date first.”

“I’ll think about it,” Grantaire sounded dismissive. “Now get off my back, woman!”

The topic shifted fluidly and Enjolras disappeared back towards the main entrance. He felt a little guilty for eavesdropping, but mostly he was numb. How was he supposedto react to that? Did he ignore it? Did he let Grantaire know he knew? His head swam, filled with a flurry of Grantaire-centric thoughts.

For the next two days, he was a mass of jittering nerves—especially around Grantaire. He could hardly sleep and this newfound frustration and confusion bled into every other aspect of his life. The others had started to notice and ask questions, but he shook them off with little patience. He had to think.

Grantaire had _feelings_ for him. At first it felt like it had come out of the blue, but he realized soon that he should have picked up on it. The staring, the teasing (flirting?)—for god’s sake, he had even taken to calling Enjolras _Apollo._

And Enjolras had... Enjolras had spurned him. He’d been impatient, insulting, and plain _mean_ on multiple occasions. Enjolras cringed at the memories. He wasn’t sure why Grantaire would so much as _like_ him. Though he reasoned it wasn’t entirely his fault; Grantaire always strove to make him flush with anger.

Enjolras supposed they had a fair share of happy memories, too. Memories of seeing movies, going to the beach, and times when their debating hadn’t turned vicious. They did get along often; he called Grantaire his _friend_ for a reason.

Beyond that, his feelings had always been muddled and much harder to parse out. And the more he thought about it, the more he understood _why_. Somewhere under the annoyance and irritation, he had feelings for Grantaire that he had never _let_ himself consider. Why would he want to be with a cynic that unraveled every word he spoke? A man who pushed his buttons and drove him crazy and messed up his perfectly planned life?  Grantaire wasn’t the _type_ he was supposed to be with and so he had pushed away the attraction.

Now that he thought about it, now that he _knew_ the possibilities, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. Grantaire was attractive, with his crooked smiles and mess of dark curls. Enjolras had thought more than once about pinning him against any surface and _making him shut up_. But he was also his intellectual equal; he never stood down a challenge and that was just as attractive as any physical trait. And now Enjolras _wanted_ that challenge, even if it drove him mad.

He accepted it, gave in, and plotted. By the third day, every last detail was carefully thought out and ready to be enacted.

Unfortunately, his plan relied heavily on outside forces: namely, Grantaire. That meant waiting another four days until he found Grantaire at the library at the optimal time. It was nearing closing and, being a Friday, the place was practically deserted. Enjolras was pleasantly surprised to see Grantaire lingering about at a table. He was _unpleasantly_ surprised (though he probably shouldn’t have been) to notice the bottle-shaped bulge in his backpack and the constant stream of smirks in his direction. It hardly mattered; Grantaire was in for much more of a surprise.

At nine promptly, Enjolras approached him. “Closing time,” he pointed out, leaning against the table and looking down at Grantaire with a hint of amusement.

“Is it really?” Grantaire asked with mock surprise.

“You can hang around while I finish up, if you want,” Enjolras offered, giving him a charming smile.

Grantaire looked surprised by it. Uncertain, even. He had to wonder if he had gotten in the habit of treating Grantaire _too_ dismissively.

“Breaking rules?”

Enjolras smirked. “What? Are you afraid to?”

“Never.” Naturally Grantaire couldn’t turn down the offer now, nor did Enjolras think he wanted to (he imagined hanging around until closing was Grantaire’s attempt to get Enjolras to drink with him). Both things would work to his advantage.

“I’ve got to clear the other floors first. Coming?”

Again Grantaire’s features lit up with surprise, as if he couldn’t imagine Enjolras wanting his company. It struck a new wave of guilt in him. Had he been so neglectful a friend?

“Yeah, alright.”

They headed to the third floor first. It took no more than two minutes to circle the floor and check for stragglers—of which there were none. Perfect.

“Fun job,” Grantaire commented sarcastically from his post on top of a desk near the elevator. He hopped down and matched Enjolras’ stride again, walking immediately towards the stairs. “I was hoping you’d make a freshman cry. Courf said—“

 _Now or never_. Enjolras caught his wrist and, in a fluid movement (that he may have practiced once or twice with Combeferre, because of _course_ he knew about the seduction plan), shoved Grantaire against the wall.

“Wha—“

Enjolras cut him off by smashing their lips together. He met no resistance. Grantaire’s hands were soon clutched in Enjolras’ hair as he kissed back enthusiastically. Enjolras’ tongue swiped over Grantaire’s bottom lip and Grantaire actually _whimpered_ , acquiescing immediately with an open mouth.

It was hot and wet and desperate as their tongues met and fought. Like everything in their lives, it was a battle—pressing into each other’s mouths and _claiming_. Until Enjolras was pulling back and began to move downward.

Grantaire panted, fingers curling and uncurling in their grip, as Enjolras’ mouth moved to bite and suck at his neck—then, with a little rearranging of Grantaire’s shirt, his collarbone. “ _Jesus_ ,” he breathed out incredulously. He let out a near moan when Enjolras focused his perfect attention at the juncture of his collarbone. “What’s got into you?”

Enjolras merely hummed against Grantaire’s skin, hands resting on his hips though they itched to move on now—to touch every inch of him. His fingers clenched with the effort of remaining in control of his pace, especially when Grantaire shivered. _And why hadn’t he been doing this for months now?_

“You do know it’s me, right?” Grantaire babbled again. “Or is this some crazy Vulcan—“

“Do you ever shut up?” Enjolras cut in, pulling away from his work on Grantaire’s collarbone—oh there would be a very nice mark there—to give him a fond look.

“You do know it’s _me_ , right?” Grantaire repeated.

He laughed breathily. “I’ve always liked a challenge.”

Grantaire’s pupils were wide with lust and the way he licked his lips had Enjolras pressing their mouths together again. The kiss was slower this time, if only by a fraction. He let himself begin to mentally categorize every taste—coffee and mint and cigarettes—, every groove and feeling and breath. And more importantly, he noted each and every reaction—if he nipped at Grantaire’s bottom lip, he got a hiss; if he moved his tongue just so, a quickened breath. And when he ground their hips together, _that_ was the best response of all—a cut-off gasp against his mouth.

Enjolras had to almost force himself to pull back—had to force himself even more not to take Grantaire’s mouth again when he noticed the dazed look on his face and the swollen red of his lips. Instead he dropped to his knees and was immediately rewarded with a shocked and hungry look from Grantaire.

 _“Holy shit_.”

He smirked in response, swiftly unbuttoning Grantaire’s jeans.

“Are you really—in the _library_?”

Enjolras could see the overwhelming lust written on Grantaire’s face. He looked up, still smirking as he tugged Grantaire’s jeans down just enough. “Unless you don’t want me to,” he offered coyly, fingers playing with the hem of Grantaire’s boxers (and he _may_ have skimmed his palm over the bulge there just once or twice).

“Fuck—of course— _suck my cock_.”

He laughed at Grantaire’s breathless and flustered response, pulling down his boxers to mid-thigh as well. Immediately, he took Grantaire in hand and Grantaire gave a strangled moan that sent a new wave of lust through Enjolras. “I don’t know, Grantaire,” he mused, stroking him slowly. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to _break the rules_.”

Grantaire practically glared down at him, hands braced against the wall. “You are an _ass_.”

Enjolras laughed again. “You shouldn’t say that to the guy with your dick in his hands.” Before Grantaire could give what would surely be a biting answer, Enjolras wrapped his mouth around his cock and cut off all intelligible response.

He tongued at the head, earning choked moans, before taking in more and sucking. Before long, Grantaire’s fingers were curled into his hair again and tugging (Enjolras was surprised to discover how much he liked that).He took Grantaire in deeper with every bob of his head, adjusting and adapting to what he found Grantaire reacting to best.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Grantaire groaned, voice reedy.

Enjolras pulled off, smirking slightly. “Still an ass?” he asked tauntingly, close enough that he knew Grantaire could feel his breath against his sensitive skin.

“The _biggest ass_.”

His voice went strangled at the end when Enjolras licked a stripe up the length of his cock and sucked at just the tip once more. Enjolras could taste bitter precum mixed with the heady taste of Grantaire and it left him dizzy. He couldn’t resist palming at himself through his jeans—which only made Grantaire groan further and buck his hips.

“I’m _close_ ,” Grantaire panted in warning.

Enjolras ambitiously relaxed his throat and took in more, quickening his pace. He managed to look up at Grantaire through lidded eyes and _yes_ _that got just the right reaction_.

Grantaire moaned hoarsely, head hitting back against the wall as he came. Enjolras swallowed it all, Grantaire’s softening cock still heavy on his tongue. He pulled away after a few lingering moments, breathing raggedly.

“Shit,” Grantaire sighed.

Enjolras laughed as he got to his feet, a little shakily. “Good?”

Grantaire groaned anew. “You’ve got _my_ _come_ on your lip.”

He licked it off and earned another strangled sound. “And _you_ might want to pull your pants up.”

“You’re going to kill me, you know,” Grantaire muttered, but listened to him. He paused when he noticed the bulge in Enjolras’ jeans. “Do you want me to—“

Enjolras shook his head at the offer, though his body was still thrumming with want. He could only imagine how good it would feel to let Grantaire take his aching cock in hand now—or, _fuck_ , let Grantaire wrap those bitten-red lips around him. It took a moment, a heavy swallow, and a _lot_ of self-control to formulate words. “I’d rather wait until we get home.”

“Oh, I’m coming home with you now, am I? Presumptuous.” Grantaire teased.

“And on a date with me tomorrow afternoon, I hope.”

A genuine smile swept over Grantaire’s features. “So this isn’t just a sex thing?”

Enjolras smiled now, twining their fingers together. “Not if you’ll go out with me.”

“After that blowjob, I’ll do anything for you.”

He laughed and walked hand-in-hand with Grantaire to the elevator. “Will you stop showing up with a bottle of wine, now that I’ve done the other half of your idiotic sign?”

Grantaire smirked. “Oh, but you _haven’t._ Yet. Now I’ll be showing up with lube and condoms.”

Enjolras groaned, but a smile lingered on his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s why you like me.” He looked like a mess; face flushed, clothes rumpled, marks already blooming above his collar. _And god did Enjolras like seeing him so disheveled_. But his smile was uncertain.

Enjolras kissed away the uncertainty; kissed him until they were both breathless and smiling big, goofy grins.

They were still holding hands and smiling when they left the library.  

**Author's Note:**

> Sammy (sesammy), who is infinitely amazing, made [art of my fic!!](http://granitebone.tumblr.com/post/48594911155/enjolras-graintaire-from-annas-lovely-fic-8dd) NSFW!!


End file.
